


Chocolate Sprinkles

by purewanderlust



Series: Love, Curiosity, Freckles, and Doubt [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam does what he can to make a bad day better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Sprinkles

A month before Sam turns eight, he watches in bewilderment as his father has an epic battle with the dented toaster, climaxing in the screech of a smoke alarm and the toaster flying out the open window. John leans heavily on the counter for a long moment, breathing in sharp angry breaths, before he finally turns to his son.

"Sorry, Sammy, I--I can't get the damn thing to work. Can you just eat cereal?"

The fire alarm is still wailing. Sam nods just as the front door bursts open and Dean tumbles into the cabin.

"What's the matter, what happened?" he gasps, clutching at a stitch in his side. His face is white, eyes flitting around the room, frantic. 

"Why are you all riled up, Deano?" John asks, with a tired attempt at a smile. It looks more like a grimace to Sam.

"I--I heard the fi--fire alarm and I thought..." he trails off, face coloring, and John's expression flashes stricken before he turns away, grabbing a dish towel to wave the smoke away from the alarm. It gives a few more feeble beeps and subsists, the kitchen suddenly, painfully quiet. 

"The toaster was busted, so I'm having cereal for breakfast," Sam tells Dean, not liking the matching looks on his brother's and father's faces. John is gripping the counter so hard his knuckles are turning white, looking miserable and ashamed. Dean is still pale, his freckles standing out vibrant against his skin. "You want some cereal, Dean?" 

Dean stares at him for a moment, then gets with the program. "Sounds great, Sammy, you want to get some bowls? One for Dad, too." 

While Sam gets the bowls out of the drainer by the sink, Dean goes over to their Dad, taking hold of his elbow and speaking in a low voice.

"C'mon, Dad, let's go sit on the couch, I think Matlock is on."

"The toaster..." John says, a little dazed, gesturing towards the window.

"I'll get it," Dean answers, still in that soothing voice, "Bet I can fix it too. I'm real good with mechanical stuff."

He's still murmuring nonsense as they vanish out of the kitchen, so Sam decides to go ahead and get the cereal, even though it's in the top cabinet. He pushes a chair up to the counter and clambers up, managing to get the door open and the box in hand before Dean reappears in the doorway. 

"Sammy, what are you doing, you could get hurt!" he's behind Sam in a flash, steadying hands at his brother's waist as Sam climbs down.

"I just wanna help, Dean." Sam says softly, handing his brother the box. Dean's eyebrows twitch up. "Dad's real tired, isn't he?"

"Sammy..."

"He was gone for five days, Dean. And then he threw the toaster out the window."

Dean sighs, a great gust of air, but it sounds more tired than exasperated. "It's complicated, Sammy."

"You're prolly not gonna tell me where he goes either, huh?" Sam says, "Then at least let me help make him feel better."

"How do you plan on doing that, kiddo?" Dean asks, genuinely interested, as he empties the last of the cereal into two of the bowls. He sniffs at the milk cautiously before deeming it fit for consumption and pouring it over the cereal. 

Sam shrugs, "We could make him a cake. For his birthday. That's tomorrow, right? Please, Dean?" 

Dean nods distractedly, handing his brother one of the bowls. "Yeah, okay, Sammy, if it means that much to you. We have to go to the grocery store anyway, and we can pick up stuff while we're there." 

He carries the second bowl of cereal into the living room and Sam hears the low murmur of conversation as he munches his way through his Lucky Charms. He's just finishing slurping up the milk when Dean hops back into the kitchen, tugging his boots on. 

"Ready to go, Sammy?" 

Sam frowns, "Didn't you have some cereal, Dean?"

"Not hungry. Do you wanna do this cake thing or not?" 

Sam bounces out of his seat and goes to get his shoes, figuring that'll be enough of an answer for his brother.

*

Half an hour later, they come back in quietly, each with an armful of plastic shopping bags. They don't even have to be sneaky, because Dad's fast asleep on the couch, empty bowl on the table and the television playing static. 

Dean drops their purchases on the table and wipes a hand across his forehead. It's a long walk to the grocery store, bright and sunny outside today, so his freckles are standing out against his pink face.

"You're gonna have a sunburn," Sam tells him warningly and Dean scowls in his direction. 

"Just because you're freaky tan, think it's so funny...." he's still kind of muttering as he goes to stow some of the groceries, but Sam doesn't want to wait until he's done, or he might be waiting forever.

"Can we make the cake now?" he asks, "Since Dad's already asleep and stuff?" 

Dean tries for another scowl, but it's no match for his little brother's puppy dog face, Sam knows. "Alright, just gimme a minute to put the rest of this stuff away." he quirks an eyebrow at his brother, "Might go faster if you give me a hand."

Together they put away their small load, Dean taking care of stuff on the higher shelf and Sam putting the cheap sliced ham that his brother found into the drawer in the bottom of the refrigerator.

"Go wash your hands, Sammy, or you'll get germs in the cake." Dean tells him, then, pulling a battered mixing bowl out of the cabinet, "And make sure to get under your fingernails!" 

Sam does as he's told, and then waits while Dean does the same. His brother comes back and reads over the instructions on the box. Sam wanted to get ingredients to make a homemade cake, like his second grade teacher sometimes does for his class, but his brother nixed that idea, saying it was too expensive. He had, however, caved on the so-called chocolate freckles that Sam had spotted in the baking aisle.

"Brown cake 'cause my hair is brown and chocolate freckles 'casue you have freckles, Dean!" He'd explained emphatically, and that had been all it'd taken to get his brother to toss the bag into the cart along with the cake mix. 

Fortunately, it turns out making cake isn't very hard if you just follow the directions, so Dean lets Sam stir the batter while he scours the ancient cake pan he'd found lurking in the back of a cobwebby cabinet. Afterwards, while he's smoothing the batter into the pan, and setting it carefully in the oven, Sam sits on the counter and licks the mixing spoon clean.

"What about the freckles, Dean?" he asks as his brother takes yet another opportunity to crack the oven door and check on the cake.

Dean rolls his eyes. "You and your freckle obsession, I swear. They'll melt, Sammy, they have to go on last."

"Oh. Okay." 

They spend the next fifteen minutes playing I Spy while Dean works on banging the toaster back into shape and when the oven timer goes off, Sam jumps off the counter excitedly and scrambles to his brother's side.

"Watch out, Sammy, it's hot." Dean warns, going to set the pan on a dish towel on the table, "Let it cool down for a few minutes and then you can put the chocolates on." 

"Freckles." Sam corrects and Dean groans, but his eyes are still lit with a grin, so that's okay. 

When the cake cools down, Dean lets Sam put the tiny colored candies on all by himself. He's just finished meticulously spelling out "Happy Birthday Dad" in blue, yellow, and green when John comes tripping into the kitchen, scrubbing at his eyes.

"What's all this, boys?" he asks and Sam turns to him, beaming.

"We made you a birthday cake, Dad! 'Cause I know you're real tired from your job and stuff. It has freckles, like Dean!"

John doesn't look too impressed at this, at first, turning to Dean. "You spent the grocery money on cake?"

"No sir," Dean answers immediately, "We used the money I got from mowing Mrs. McCreedy's lawn last week." 

Their father looks mollified at that, stepping forward to sweep Sam into a hug. "That was a very nice idea, Sammy." he says with a rare smile, "Thank you."

"I'll make some sandwiches," Dean offers, "And we can have cake for dessert." 

John thumps him on the back. "Sounds like a perfect birthday dinner." 

In Sam's estimation, ham and mustard sandwiches have never tasted better than when they're washed down with chocolate freckle cake.


End file.
